Life Afterwards
by foaly1
Summary: The war is over and fading fast from everyone's memories. Harry and Ginny are married and beginning to build a life together. Old friends are in the same situation, and some surprises are in store...
1. Not A Morning Person

**Riiiiiiiing.**

 **Riiiiiiiing.**

Ginny Potter's long eyelashes fluttered as she unwillingly left her dreams for the land of the waking.

"Harry, why did I let you talk me into getting one of these Muggle alarm things?"

"Huh?" was her husband's only response. Ginny sighed and dug a sharp elbow into the ribs of the Boy Who Lived.

"Ow!" Harry sat up in the four-poster bed, suddenly very wide awake. "What was that for?"

"You're the one who has to get up" Ginny pointed out reasonably, wrapping herself once more in the warmth of their red silk sheets.

"Sometimes, I wonder why I married you" Harry joked, dragging himself out of the soft haven of their bed and running a hand through his messy black hair.

"Shut up, I want to go back to sleep. In case you hadn't noticed, it's four in the morning!" Ginny pulled the sheets over her head. Smirking, Harry grabbed his wand from the desk and with a brisk flick, the sheets vanished. Seeing his wife's narrowed eyes and distinctly unamused expression, he wisely decided to dress and run for it.

Alone in the house, Ginny Summoned another set of sheets from the linen cupboard and, warm once more, returned to her deep sleep.

Some hours later, and in a slightly better mood (though not much better- Ginny was not a morning person), the wife of the most famous wizard alone descended the two flights of marble stairs that led her to the kitchen. Wrapped in a red silk dressing gown, with a golden lion embroidered on the pocket, she sat at the kitchen table. Leaning one elbow on the stained oak, she flicked her wand to move a pan of bacon onto the cast-iron cooking range and picked up the pile of letters that rested beneath the window.

The first envelope was addressed in Hermione's neat handwriting to 'Mr and Mrs H Potter', so Ginny set that one aside to read later, when Harry got back from the Ministry. The next few were all in brown envelopes and bore Muggle stamps, so she put those on the 'bill pile'. Then, right at the bottom, was an envelope with the crest of the Ministry for Magic in the top left corner. It was addressed in a slanting hand to 'Mrs G. Potter, Potter Court, Sussex'. Potter Court was, of course, the name of the elegant magical stately home which the Ministry had given to Harry for his work in the war.

Ginny ran a nail underneath the flap of the envelope, opening it, then pulled out a piece of cream parchment.

 _ **Dear Mrs Potter;**_

 _ **It has come to the attention of the Ministry that you have recently vacated your long-held position as the Daily Prophet's Sports Correspondent. The Minister for Magic has authorised me to inquire whether you would consider taking a position within the Department for Magical Games and Sports. He also requires you to attend an interview with the head of said department within the next thirty working days to provide an answer under the 1543 Act for Magical Employment.**_

 _ **Yours truly;**_

 _ **Alicia Spinnet**_

 _ **Departmental Secretary**_

 _ **Department of Magical Games and Sports.**_

Ginny brushed a long hair off her face and turned the parchment over. On the reverse was scrawled a much more informal note which read:

 _ **Hey Gin**_

 _ **Meet me for coffee in Diagon Alley next Thursday? Haven't seen you in ages!- Alicia**_

Putting the parchment on one side, Ginny removed the now flaming bacon from the heat and extinguished the flames using her wand. Although Alicia had been much older than Ginny, the two had got on well at Hogwarts. The last time that they had met had been at the last Quidditch World Cup- Ginny had been there for the Prophet, and Alicia had been representing the UK on the International Quidditch Board. A smile played around the flame-haired woman's lips. Fun times.

Having replied to Alicia's note, saying that she'd be thrilled to go along with her suggestion, Ginny wrote to her family. They were all coming up for Christmas in just a few weeks, but Ginny adored her large family, and often felt lonely in the huge house by herself. Amongst other things, she told her mother to not to bring any food up for Christmas, they had more than enough. She also asked her father if he'd like a Muggle alarm clock.

When she'd finished with her correspondence, Ginny made the trek up the stairs back to the master bedroom. One thing she absolutely adored about the house was the huge walk-in wardrobe, with ample space for all her clothes- a collection which grew daily thanks to her husband's generosity.

Having finally, after half an hour's deliberation, selected an outfit, Ginny walked down the stairs yet again, then pushed open the tall mahogany doors that led into the house's expansive living room. Taking a pinch of powder from the pot on the mantelpiece, she threw it into the fire and stepped in, saying clearly "Saint Mungo's Hospital".

The witch behind the reception desk barely looked up as Ginny arrived in the fireplace with a whoosh. She did look up when Ginny banged her head on the mantelpiece and swore loudly.

"Can I help you?" She asked, not bothering to put down her nail file.

"I don't know" replied Ginny, finally extracting herself from the fireplace and striding across the empty foyer. "Can you? I'm looking for Healer Sloop."

"First floor" the receptionist informed her, yawning widely. The redhead nodded and climbed the stairs- an action she was all too familiar with. Finally reaching the top, she found herself in the midst of chaos. Mediwizards in lime green robes were hurrying to and fro, some using their wands to carry patients in mid-air.

"Excuse me"

The nearest Healer looked around in surprise, finally noticing the red-headed woman leaning on a wall, looking bored.

"Yes, madam?"

"Have you seen Healer Sloop anywhere?"

"In his office. Second left, last door on your right."

Ginny set off on another journey through the seemingly interminable corridors of St Mungo's, every one identical. Finally she arrived at a white door with the name 'Healer Sloop' painted on it in black. Taking a deep breath, she rapped on the door.

"Enter" came a calm, collected voice from within. She pushed the door- nothing happened. Pushed harder- still nothing. She gave the door a shove. It came off its hinges and shot back into the room beyond, crashing into the back wall.

"You pull it" came the same voice from somewhere underneath the door. Ginny blushed and returned the door to its usual position with a simple charm.

"Thank you" Healer Sloop said, brushing dust and wood chippings from his lime green robes. "Now, I assume from your red hair and the infamous Weasley temper that you are Ginny Potter?"

Ginny nodded, taking a seat in a comfortable leather chair and dropping her handbag on the floor. The bag gave a protesting mew as it hit the ground.

"I have here the results of the test you asked for." The Healer handed her a thin slip of parchment. Taking a deep breath, she looked down at it. The spot in the centre was pink.

"I'm pregnant?" she breathed.

"Quite correct, Mrs Potter. My congratulations"

"Pregnant… I'm not meant to be pregnant, not yet. This wasn't part of the plan. A few years we said, a few years… I have a job! How in the name of Merlin's soggy Y-fronts am I going to cope?"

"If you'll pardon the observation, if you take after your mother I should think you'll cope just fine"

Ginny brushed a long ginger hair off her face. "Thank you. Is it a boy or a girl, can you tell?"

The Healer took a long wand from his desk and ran it along the parchment. "No way of knowing yet. You're about a month gone."

Ginny's lips curved upwards in a smile, adding to her already considerable beauty. "Thank you!" she called over her shoulder as she left the office at a run.


	2. A Sudden Shock

Ginny arrived home to find Harry already waiting for her in the kitchen. His jacket hung over the back of his chair, and Ginny sighed as she used a Scourgify charm to clean his muddy footprints from the white tiles of the floor.

"What have I done now?" Harry chuckled as he saw the exasperated expression on his wife's face.

"Two words. 'Mud' and 'Floor'."

"You're getting worse than your mother" Harry remarked, sorting through the pile of letters that Ginny hadn't yet opened.

"Oh Merlin, I'm not, am I?"

"Afraid so" her husband laughed, flicking through the envelopes. "Hey, what's this?" He held up Hermione's letter.

"It's from Hermione" Ginny told him, hanging her coat neatly by the back door and sitting beside him.

"How can you possibly know that? You haven't opened it, for some reason"

"It's her handwriting. And I haven't opened it because it's addressed to both of us."

"Well, we're both here now. Open it" He tossed the envelope on to the table in front of her.

Ginny sighed. "You can be really annoying sometimes, you know that?" She opened the buff-coloured envelope, and jumped slightly at the explosion of brightly-coloured fireworks.

"Looks like good news" Harry commented.

Ginny nodded and slipped two slender fingers into the envelope. She pulled out a square white card. And gasped.

"Harry, you're not going to like this…" she began tentatively.

"What is it?"

Seeing no escape route, Ginny rolled her eyes and read out the card.

You are invited to the wedding of Miss Hermione Granger to Mr Draco Malfoy, which will take place at 12 o'clock on Wednesday the 21st of May at the ancestral home of the Malfoys, Malfoy Manor. Please RSVP as soon as possible.

"You must be joking" Harry's eyes were wide in shock.

"Sorry"

"Please tell me you're joking"

"Read it yourself if you don't believe me"

Harry's brown hand took the card from her slim white one. His deep green eyes scanned it carefully.

"Merlin…"

"My thoughts exactly."

"I'm not having this. I'm going to go and see her. Now."

"Harry, before you go…"

"Yeah, Gin?"

"I've got some news…"

His emerald green eyes looked searchingly into her deep brown ones, making her go weak at the knees just as they had ever since she'd first seen him. "What's wrong?"

The love and sudden concern in his tone went to her heart. Every day, he found some new way to show her just how deep his love for her was.

"Nothing's wrong." She took a deep breath. Here goes, Gin. "I'm pregnant."


	3. Deep Green Eyes and Busybodies

Shock. That was the first thing she saw in those deep green pools of emotion. Shock, then amazement, and then…

Joy. Pure and simple. The man she loved stood up and wrapped his long arms around her. Ginny closed her eyes and revelled in the sense of warmth, comfort and security that she always felt in this situation.

"Ginny, that's fantastic!"

"You would say that. You're not the one with nine months of misery to endure" she responded teasingly, and she felt him shake with laughter.

"I think this is cause for celebration" He announced.

"So do I." His wife replied. "I'm going round to Luna's. You get to work"

He rolled his eyes, nodded and released her. Pulling his jacket on, he gave her a swift kiss on the cheek and vanished through the back door. After quickly clearing the table, she wrapped her favourite long woollen cape around her and slipped into the Floo Network. Only a few seconds later, she was shaking off ash on Luna's hearthrug.

"Hi Luna" she called.

"Hello Ginny. It's nice to see you." The blonde witch stood from an armchair and gave the taller woman a swift hug.

"Good to see you too." Ginny took in the state of the room. Typically of Luna, papers were strewn everywhere. Various strange magical ornaments decorated the shelves and, in some cases, the floor. A printing press took up a large amount of the carpet and just about deafened Ginny with its noise. Luna had, of course, taken over the Quibbler and was making a far better job of it than her father ever had; making a large enough profit to justify a London office and a seat on the Wizarding Press Council.

"Can I get you anything?" Luna asked, using a spell to quickly clear a small area of the sofa so that the pair could sit down.

"No, thanks. I've just had breakfast." Ginny sat, her fingers just itching to perform a good Cleaning Charm on the whole room.

Luna frowned and looked at the elegant silver clock that sat in a corner. It was almost quarter to twelve. "Oversleep?"

"Since I'm not working, I don't have to get up early. Although Harry decided to wake me up at four o'clock this morning" Ginny rolled her eyes. Luna laughed.

"That's why I'm so glad I never got married. I'm just not prepared to have endless conversations about whose turn it is to wash up."

Ginny nodded. "There is definitely something to be said for living alone." She admitted with a wry smile.

Luna took a seat on the battered leather chair that she used- from time to time- as an office chair. "So, did you want something?"

"Oh yes, completely forgot!" Ginny laughed at herself. "Good news to tell you."

"You're pregnant."

"I'm- Hey, how did you know?"

Luna smiled. "I may not be a Healer, but I know when two and two make four weeks pregnant."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "All right. Bet you can't guess the second bit."

"No idea."

"We want you to be godmother." She hadn't actually asked Harry yet, but she was sure he'd be fine with it. He'd always liked Luna. And if it bothered him, he'd just have to live with it.

Luna's blue eyes widened in a rather disconcerting manner. "You're joking!" she gasped.

"Nope" Ginny grinned.

It took another ten minutes before Luna was finally calm enough to speak coherently. Finally, however, Ginny managed to extract herself and return home. As she stepped out of the fireplace, brushing dust and ash from her cloak, she was met by a wizard in sober dress robes, standing at the window. She cleared her throat pointedly.

"Ah, Mrs Potter." He spoke with an Irish accent, and his face seemed vaguely familiar. "I'm from the Ministry of Magic. Public Information Services. My name is-"

"Seamus Finnegan!" Ginny exclaimed, having just remembered how she knew him.

"That's me."

"How did you get in?" she demanded, one hand feeling for her wand inside her robes.

"I have my ways and means"

"Scandalous" remarked a portrait of an elderly woman which hung over the fireplace. (It had been a wedding present from the Ministry of Magic, and Harry had hung it there in the hope that it might 'accidentally' catch fire.) "In my day, the Ministry didn't go around breaking into people's houses. We certainly didn't have Public Information Services. What a waste of time! The Minister wrote to-"

"Yes, thank you Gladys" Ginny snapped. Most of the time, she quite liked the portrait of Gladys Boothby, but every once in a while she could see why Harry detested it. Gladys had a tendency to go on about how things used to be, and she could talk about Quidditch for long enough to bore even Ginny, which was saying something.

"Ahem" The Irish visitor coughed gently, bringing her attention back to him.

"Yes, what?" Ginny demanded.

"As I was saying, the Minister sent me here to ask you in an official capacity whether the rumours of your pregnancy are true."

"What's it to do with you?" demanded the portrait. Gladys's Welsh accent grew stronger as her anger gained momentum.

"I don't have to tell you anything!" Ginny snapped. "You enter my home without my permission, and now you're asking me questions about my private life! Well, it's nothing to do with you and if you don't get out of my house within the next thirty seconds I'll damn well charge you rent."

The stranger raised his hands. "Hey lady, don't you be getting angry now. I'm just doing my job. Either you can tell me or you can tell the Daily Prophet, it makes no difference in the long run." He glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice. "This is off the record. Don't tell me, Gin. I don't care, I'll just tell them you were out."

Ginny felt the fires of rage dying down. She took a deep breath. "Thanks, Seamus. See you"

The Irishman winked, turned to the fireplace and vanished into the Floo Network in a swirl of black fabric.

Ginny let out a breath that she hadn't realised she was holding. She strode to her desk, took up a sheet of paper and wrote a quick note.


	4. Just Another Day At The Office

Harry Potter strode through the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, nodding to a witch he vaguely recognised as he reached the lifts. Within a minute, the cool female voice was announcing the 'Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including…', but he didn't stop to listen to the rest- he knew it off by heart by now. Before the lift doors had closed, he was ducking into his cubicle, hanging his cloak on the back of the door.

Surveying his desk, he banged his head on the wall at the sight of the enormous pile of paperwork that he'd been putting off. Sighing, he picked up his quill, dipped it in the ink and began to write.

It always amazed him how many forms the Ministry threw at him every time he so much as went out for lunch. As for using magic in a combat situation… Harry almost drowned in paper after every mission.

He wrote continuously, pausing frequently to re-ink his quill, until the magical clock on his desk cleared its throat and said peevishly "It's your lunch break, you know". Harry turned the clock to face the wall and continued working, ignoring its outraged mutterings, until the sound of footsteps made him look up.

"Morning, Ron" he called to his old friend and brother-in-law as the ginger man hurried past his doorway.

"Morning, Harry" replied Ron, running a hand distractedly through his short hair. "Look mate, I really haven't got time today, there's-"

"I know" Harry interrupted. "Is Hermione working today, do you know?"

"She's Hermione, mate. Nothing short of a heart attack would stop her coming in, even if it is her day off." Ron's head jerked up as someone called his name, and he hurried off through the narrow corridor that separated Harry's cubicle from the one opposite. Harry grinned to himself. How little his two friends had changed. Attaching a note which read 'Back in 5 mins' to his door with a sticking charm, he returned to the lifts and went up to the Department of International Magical Co-Operation, where he found Hermione scribbling furiously at an enormous mahogany desk mostly hidden under piles of paper.

"Hey Hermione" he greeted her. She looked up, and he was amused to see that she had managed to get ink on the end of her nose and in her hair.

"Oh, hi Harry" she replied, laying down her quill.

"You do realise that you don't have to work on your day off? It's sort of the point" Harry teased gently.

"I know, I only popped in to file some paperwork, but then Percy owled me asking for some figures, and I thought while I was here, I might as well…"

"Yeah, right" Harry interrupted; he knew from experience that once Hermione got started talking about her job, she could go on for hours. "What's this I hear about you and Malfoy?"

He was shocked to see that she actually blushed- he hadn't known that she was capable of it!

"Well, we met at an office party, and he was really nice, and we got along really well, and he's not so bad, really, when you get to know him, he was just scared and doing what his father told him to, and" Harry held up a hand to stop her.

"Hermione, you're gabbling." He glanced at his watch, and saw that he'd been away from his desk for nearly ten minutes. He swore softly. "Look, come round for dinner tomorrow. We'll talk about it then."

He rushed back to his cubicle at a breakneck pace, sitting down at his desk just in time to be hit on the head by a particularly enthusiastic memo. Catching it in one hand, he unfolded the pink parchment- a horrible colour that always reminded him of Umbridge. Reading it, his anger grew gradually until by the end, he was fuming. He picked up a sheet of paper from his desk, and a Quick-Quotes quill. He cleared his throat and began to dictate.

"Memo from H. Potter, Auror, Department of Magical Law Enforcement to L. Minsk, Departmental Supervisor, Public Information Services." He paused to allow the quill to catch up with him. "How dare you stick your bloody interfering noses into my family life? Don't do it again, or I will be… Very unhappy. Message ends."


	5. Magic Can Be Murder

"You did WHAT?!"

Ginny's fiery hair emphasised the anger in her eyes as she stood in the doorway, staring incredulously at Harry.

"I only invited her round for dinner, Ginny. It's not like I declared war on North Korea because their ambassador spilt coffee all over my desk." Harry attempted to placate her, somewhat hindered by the fact that, as always when his wife was angry, he couldn't take his eyes off her.

"Harry! I haven't got any food in until Thursday, I've got an interview with the editor of Witch Weekly tomorrow so even if I did have food to cook, I wouldn't have time to cook it, and finally and most importantly, I have nothing to wear!"

"You look stunning whatever you wear" Harry soothed, glancing at his watch. He'd only dropped in briefly, he had to be at a crime scene within a few minutes. "Why don't you ask your mother to come and help you cook?"

"You MUST be joking." The couple shared a brief recollection of the last time Molly Weasley had visited. Having spent half an hour looking for dust in the dining room, she had proceeded to ask Holly, their house-elf, whether she needed any help in the kitchen- a query that had led the elf to beat herself about the head with a French stick because she believed that she wasn't doing a good enough job. This had not been particularly helpful.

"Maybe not" Harry agreed. His long-suffering partner brushed her hair behind her ears and sighed.

"I'll manage" she told him. "As always."

Harry gave her a grateful smile, then turned on the spot and Disapparated.

It was dark in Knockturn Alley, as always. Harry turned up the collar of his cloak and lowered his head in an attempt to avoid being recognised. He was never the most popular person in this area, even if he was investigating a crime, with every right to be there.

He hurried through the gloom, avoiding the hostile glares of the residents, who seemed to have a sixth sense where Aurors were concerned. Pausing to get his bearings, he turned left into a narrow alley between two shops.

Seven other Aurors were standing around with their wands out, eyes darting nervously all around them. They stood in a circle, surrounding something that was hidden by their bodies.

"Evening, Neville." Harry greeted their leader. Once upon a time, Neville would have jumped a mile in the air, but now he just looked around and nodded.

"Hi Harry. You're taking over, are you?" Harry nodded. "Thank Merlin for that. I'm frozen."

Harry laughed. "So, what's been going on?"

"Corpse discovered at 15:30 this afternoon. Preliminary reports suggest he died of suffocation, possibly magically induced. A Healer from St. Mungo's is on the way to do a formal examination."

Harry nodded. "Any idea who he is?"

Neville didn't speak. Instead, he gestured to the Aurors surrounding the body. They all drew back, and one of them conjured a ball of light which illuminated the scene, allowing Harry to get a clear view of the body.

Draco Malfoy's body.


	6. Post-Mortems and a Worrying Revelation

They waited only half an hour before the Healer arrived. She was a good-looking girl with long, dark hair, who looked very familiar.

"Hello, Cho." Neville called from the other end of the alley. Cho Chang smiled, looking slightly self-conscious in her lime-green Healer's robes.

"Hello" she returned his greeting in a soft voice, glancing at the scene around her with a touch of apprehension. Harry understood her feelings- the dirty brick alley, adorned with magical graffiti wasn't exactly a background to inspire confidence in a young Healer attending her first murder.

"This way" he told her, leading her down the alleyway towards the group of wizards and witches who had gathered at the scene, drawn by the Londoner's instinct for intrigue.

"Out of the way!" Harry bawled. "Healer coming through, clear a path!"

"Bit late for a Healer, mate!" yelled a comic near the front of the crowd, to general amusement. Harry studiously ignored him and led Cho down the narrow pathway that the crowd begrudgingly formed. He noticed her breathing a sigh of relief as she saw the body, probably because it wasn't too gruesome. She knelt beside the late Draco, drawing her wand from a small black bag and running it carefully up and down his body. After a moment, the wand emitted a puff of green smoke.

"Well, he wasn't poisoned." Cho announced, before putting her wand away and withdrawing a strange silver rod with unusual symbols engraved on it. She tapped the corpse's neck with it, causing a clicking sound not dissimilar to a bicycle chain. The symbols that Harry could see shifted and changed, giving him a slight feeling of seasickness.

"Strangled using magic." Cho proclaimed, returning the instrument to her bag and snapping it closed. "Anything else?"

"No, that'll be all. Thanks for your help." Cho nodded and turned on the spot, vanishing with a pop.

Harry glanced at his watch. It was so late that it was early, but that wasn't important.

"Get in touch with Hermione." He told Neville. "Tell her to meet me at the Leaky Cauldron. As soon as she can."

"Will she be in the office?" asked Neville. "It's almost half past two."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Have you ever met Hermione? The only time she goes out of the office is when she's practically asleep on her desk." The last line was tossed over his shoulder as he dashed back down the narrow alleyway towards the better-lit street that was Diagon Alley.

It was less than five minutes later when Hermione arrived, drenched with rain, in the warm bar of the Leaky Cauldron, lit by flickering firelight. Harry waved at her; she spotted him and hurried across the crowded room.

"What's the emergency?" she asked, settling into her chair and waving her wand to cause her robes to start steaming gently as they dried.

Harry winced; he always hated breaking the bad news, and it only got harder with a personal friend.

"I'm afraid I've got some very bad news for you, Hermione." He spoke gently, and he knew by the sudden worry in her eyes that his manner had set off alarm bells in her head. Hermione wasn't stupid, he reflected bitterly, and he should have known that being too careful in his approach would never have gone unnoticed.

"Who is it?" Hermione asked abruptly. She blinked hard and quickly; her voice betrayed no emotion. Harry took a deep breath. Here goes nothing…

"I'm afraid I have to tell you that the body of Draco Malfoy was discovered this afternoon in Knockturn Alley. Investigations are ongoing."

"Oh."

Hermione's voice betrayed a slight hint of puzzlement. Harry looked at her face for the first time since he had given her the tragic news and discovered a look of confusion- a rare sight on the face of Hermione Granger.

"You don't seem very upset." He observed, careful to keep his voice neutral.

"Could I ask a question?"

"Go ahead" invited Harry.

"Who's Draco Malfoy?"


	7. It's Called Dark Magic

Harry stared at his old friend, seeing nothing but honest bewilderment in her eyes.

"Draco Malfoy. As in, your fiancé Draco Malfoy?" he enquired disbelievingly.

"Fiancé? Don't be silly, Harry. Do you see me as the marrying kind?"

"Well, no." Harry had to admit. "I never have." He turned his head at the sound of feet behind him and saw a squad of Aurors, on their way to take over from those on guard at the scene. And at their head was… Oh, Merlin.

"Dawlish?" he called. The older Auror looked up, his habitual scowl replaced with an even deeper one as he saw Harry, who he had taken a deep dislike to.

"What?" grunted Dawlish, charming as ever.

Harry took a deep breath and reined in his temper. "Could you please ask Neville to get me a Healer? As quickly as possible, please."

Dawlish rolled his eyes, but nodded. Harry watched him go, shouting at and bullying the six younger Aurors under his command. He was secure in the knowledge that, much as Dawlish hated him, the vindictive man wouldn't dare to ignore his request, or he could be on a charge of withholding evidence and obstructing an investigation, which came under perverting the course of justice- a very serious offence that would definitely result in the loss of his job, and possibly a spell in Azkaban.

Sure enough, within five minutes Cho was back, rubbing her eyes and doing her best to hold back a yawn. "Harry," she complained. "I _was_ hoping to get home tonight."

"I know, I'm sorry. It's just that Hermione here seems to have a slight memory problem."

Cho sighed. "Great." She muttered to herself, opening her ever-present black bag and digging through its contents, tossing various intricate instruments onto the stained table. Harry just saved one from falling into his drink. Finally, she produced a slim silver object that resembled a telescope. She unfolded this instrument and twisted both ends, causing it to click and begin to emit a pale blue light. Putting her eye to one end, she brushed Hermione's hair back and set the other end of the instrument to her forehead. She spent several minutes moving the tube around on the pale skin of Hermione's head- it all reminded Harry of an ultrasound scan. Finally, she folded up the telescope and tossed it back into her bag, causing a crash that made Harry wince.

"Memory loss is limited to a six-month period, and has been caused by a spell which is part of a branch of Dark Magic. It can possibly be removed by a skilled Healer." She stood up and flicked her wand, sending all her tools flying back into her bag. "And now I'm going home. Take her to St. Mungo's."


	8. A Midnight Visitor

Ginny was woken in the middle of the night by a crash from the driveway. With the reflexes developed by living through a war, she leaped out of bed and grabbed her wand from the bedside table. Only then did she pause to think.

Harry hadn't come back from work. This meant that there was a possibility that the noise could be him. On the other hand, he had lived in this house for four years, and had never once knocked over the dustbins. So, probably not Harry. Therefore, it was probably someone who wanted to harm either her or Harry, since their friends did not creep down the drive in the middle of the night. So…

She wrapped herself in a red silk dressing gown and quickly slipped on a pair of shoes. Leaving the bedroom, she ran down several flights of marble stairs, almost falling on the second-floor landing, and as she reached the ground floor, she flung open the front door and shot a Stunning spell into the darkness. The spell didn't hit anything, but the red light allowed Ginny to see a dark figure crouched behind the fountain. Once she had seen her target, there was no power on earth that could make Ginny Potter miss. A second Stunner flew into the darkness, and by the quiet thud that the intruder's body made hitting the ground, she knew that her spell had been a success. Breathing heavily with the exertion of running down the stairs, she stepped out into the darkness. The gentle crunch of her feet on the gravel shattered the silence of the night.

"Lumos," she whispered, holding her wand aloft, and a gentle glow spread out around her, creating a small circle of light in the blackness of the night. She bent down, examining the man who lay full-length on the ground. She noted his long blonde hair, made dirty by mud, sweat and other foul substances, his torn and rumpled robes, the pattern of scars and burns that surrounded his broken nose. The man was unrecognisable beneath the dirt and blood that masked his face, but Ginny had the definite feeling that she had seen him before. With a flick of her wand, ropes appeared and bound the man tightly. Another flick and he rose into the air and moved slowly before her as she moved back towards the house.

Reaching the house, she closed the door behind her and bolted it firmly, then went down into the cellars and found an empty stone room with a stout door. Into this went the intruder, and Ginny closed the thick oak door, bolted it and locked it. Then she leaned against it, panting and laughing.

Once she had caught her breath enough to speak, she sent a message by Patronus to the Ministry. She had a feeling that, whoever the stranger was, they would be very interested in him. Then, realising she'd have no chance of getting to sleep that night, she sat down in the living room and picked up a copy of Witch Weekly. However, this week's headline was 'Is Harry Potter's Marriage Breaking Up?', and Ginny threw it aside in disgust. Leaning back in her chair, she stared at the white plaster on the ceiling. She sighed.


	9. An Abortive Appointment

**A/N:** I know, I know, it's been a while. I'm sorry. Real life is incapable of realising that writing is more important. Seriously, I think it has attachment issues or something... But this is a new chapter! A step in the right direction! I promise I won't make anyone who has the patience and the tolerance to be reading this wait this long for the next one...

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The reception area of St Mungo's was as crowded as ever. Harry and Hermione had to wait a good half an hour before they even got to the desk. They weren't sure what had caused Hermione's memory loss, and the Welcomewitch was surly and unhelpful. Eventually, however, they were directed to the office of a specialist Healer, which they finally located after taking an unplanned diversion via the kitchens, the dispensary and the service lift. Harry raised his hand to knock, but was forestalled by a voice from within, calling "Enter!"

The two entered, and were met by a man with blonde hair, wearing a Healer's lime green robes. He smiled and rose from his desk, moving to meet them.

"Well Mr. Potter, we seem to be seeing a lot of your family recently. What can I do for you?"

"Actually," Harry responded, "I'm here because of Hermione. She seems to have lost her memory." The Healer gestured to a pair of overstuffed seats by his desk, which the pair sank into gradually while they were asked a series of searching questions. No, this had never happened before. Yes, Harry was absolutely sure that Hermione had been engaged. He produced the invitation as proof.

It was quickly established that the brown-haired witch had no recollection of ever being in any kind of relationship at all with Draco Malfoy. In fact, the last time that she remembered seeing him was as they left Hogwarts for the last time in their seventh year. As Alice in Wonderland would have said, it just got curiouser and curiouser. It was unusual, to say the least, to get married to someone who you'd previously hated within six months. Knowing Hermione, however, Harry wasn't nearly as surprised as he might have been had it been someone else doing it. Still, something didn't feel right, and he decided that once he got back to the office he would have to start looking into all this very closely. The fact that it involved a former Death Eater meant that there would probably be no issue with getting the funding and time for an investigation (which wasn't inconsiderable) from the higher-ups.

It would have to be a good investigation, because it appeared that there was no immediate prospect of Hermione's memory returning. The Healer was apologetic, but he explained that there was some kind of magic at work which he'd never seen before, and, as such, he obviously couldn't be held responsible for anything. A typical Healer's reaction- put a disclaimer on it. Harry and Hermione left the hospital having lost four hours of their lives with nothing to show for it. It wasn't how Harry would have chosen to spend his afternoon. If it had actually produced a helpful result, he wouldn't have minded, but as it was, the time might just as well have been spent reading Witch Weekly- a pursuit which was generally agreed to be a last retreat in the case of boredom.

Harry took Hermione to the flat in Muggle London which she called her home, though in reality she only went there to sleep. Most of her time was spent hunched over a desk in the Ministry, working feverishly. It was only by using major traction that anyone could separate Hermione from her work, and most were too scared of her to even try. As a consequence, her residence was spartan to an extreme, furnished with only the bare necessities. While the Ministry would have been happy to grant her just about anything that she asked after her actions in the war, the brunette had asked only for a job at the Ministry, and her home gave the impression of an owner in the last stages of poverty, though this was far from the truth. Rooms were painted in a uniform magnolia. The living room contained only a single, rather battered, sofa and a large bookcase which had overflowed onto the floor, while the kitchen was equipped with a microwave, a kettle, one mug, two plates, two knives and two forks. It was all very evocative of a woman who took no interest whatsoever in her life outside of work.

Harry made Hermione a cup of tea. It was black, since there was no milk. It was also full of leaves, since the bag had burst. Obviously, he had poured the water on too aggressively. The black-haired Auror fished out as many little bits of sodden leaf as he could and carried the mug through into the front room.


	10. A Worrying Revelation

A little short, but at least it's here! Also, I kind of came to a point... Hope you enjoy it! Please leave reviews and things...  
Fifteen minutes passed. Half an hour. Three quarters of an hour. Still, there was nothing. No sound, save for the distant banging of fists against a thick door. After an hour, Ginny stopped counting- mostly because she was asleep. This was probably just as well for the Ministry, since it was not until three hours later that a somewhat sheepish-looking Auror appeared on her doorstep. His case was somewhat helped by the fact that it took him ten minutes of looking before a somewhat dishevelled Mrs Potter appeared in the doorway. After peering blearily through the glass of the door for a moment, there was a series of clicks and the doorway was finally vacated by the door.  
"You took your time." Ginny remarked caustically as the young wizard shuffled past her into the hall. It was raining now, and she winced as he left muddy footprints across the pristine floor while his cloak dripped steadily. Still, she showed him into the study (which thankfully wasn't carpeted), hung his cloak over a rail and offered him a chair. With a flick of her wand, she illuminated the room. In the new light, the redhead got her first proper look at the Auror and was shocked at the face that met her view. He was so young! He barely looked old enough to Apparate, never mind defend the wizarding world against Dark magic. Ginny wasn't old; far from it. But just at this moment, she felt it.

The woman realised that she'd been staring for longer than was strictly necessary, and hastily snapped herself back into the real world. "So, tell me." Ginny began. "Why do you consider it acceptable to leave a woman alone in a house with a potentially violent intruder?"  
The Auror's face contorted in sudden panic, and Ginny suddenly felt guilty. Normally, she wouldn't use that as an opening to any conversation, but she was tired, she was stressed and, although she would never admit it, she was worried. Being married to Harry Potter was a danger in its own right, and she took attempts on her life as a matter of course, although they weren't exactly an everyday occurrence. But there had never been anything like this. She recognised that man, she knew she did. Where from, she wasn't sure, but there was something about his face. Ginny Potter did not habitually associate with criminals (Witch Weekly would have had a field day) so that meant that it had to be someone that she'd met at Hogwarts. Which limited it to… Oh, a few hundred students. No trouble at all. Ah, the Auror had remembered how his mouth worked…

"I'm sorry, um, Ma'am, but there's a bit of a panic on in the office, and everyone's busy." Ginny sighed. That was probably Harry. Always causing trouble. And when Harry had a problem, it was everyone's problem- the flip side of that being that everyone's problem was his problem. It was why she loved him. The redhead rubbed her nose. Now, what would it be this time? Death Eater fan groups? Voldemort wannabes? It was anybody's guess. And she wished people wouldn't call her ma'am. It made her feel old. Everyone had always called her mother ma'am, but Molly Weasley fitted that description to a T. Quite possibly, she was the person that the phrase had been written to fit. But it was such a… emmatronly/em word. Not her at all. She hoped.

"You see, Draco Malfoy's been murdered."/p

Something clicked. The face, the hair, the build… It all made sense. Ginny blinked, then spoke quietly in a measured tone. "Are you sure? Because I rather think he's locked in my cellar."


	11. Floo Powder and Penelope

Simon D'Arcane was not having a good day. He was only two weeks out of his probation period, and already the Auror Office had plunged him into complete and utter panic. What with the murder of a notorious ex-Death Eater on top of an attempted housebreaking at the home of the most famous wizard of the modern age, he had a growing and uncomfortable feeling that he had left his head lying around somewhere between the Ministry and the floor which his cloak was currently dripping rainwater over. The man had Apparated so many times in the last six hours that he wouldn't have been at all surprised to find that he had been Splinched somewhere in the middle without noticing.  
And now there was this. The mad redheaded woman seemed convinced that the man whose murder the office had been investigating for the last few hours was actually alive and well. If it was true, then they had a major problem on their hands, because it was not usual to have the murder victim giving evidence at the trial. And that might quite well lead to some confusion on the jury's part. But still, first things first. What needed to happen first? Everything. Ah, excellent. OK, let's try another angle…

Perhaps you might be kind enough to show me the man that you think is him?" Simon suggested tentatively. After the woman's first mad rant at him when he came in, he thought that it was probably best to tread cautiously. He didn't need any kind of repeat of that experience. As it was, he'd very likely been traumatised for life. He made a mental note to apply for the post-traumatic stress counselling that the Ministry offered to its field operatives.

Ten minutes later, the man was kneeling in front of the Potter family's fire, having a long and in-depth conversation with a harassed-looking woman at the Ministry. She seemed deeply sceptical- which was probably due as much to his evident inexperience as it was to the ludicrosity of his story- but eventually she agreed to attempt to contact someone who knew what they were doing. Which was more, her tone implied, than he did. But Simon had not spent two years training to be an Auror for nothing, and those kind of insinuations just bounced off his thick skin. There was little that anyone could say to insult him any more- he'd heard it all before, after all.

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Harry was tired. Oh, so tired. He had, however, managed to establish that Hermione had absolutely no memory of the last six months or so, but had no issues whatsoever recalling any period prior to that. He could tell by the somewhat confused and almost disgusted way that she looked around her that her accommodation had only reached this state of dilapidation within that time period. Conversation was stilted and somewhat awkward, so when the fire burst into life, it was almost a relief.

Harry sprang to his feet so quickly that he almost upset Hermione's mug, and dropped to his knees before the grate. He immediately recognised the stern features of Penelope Graves, the Auror Office Operations Coordinator, and however bored and put-upon she might look, he had learned never to take a call from her lightly- mainly because she was so antisocial that she would avoid speaking to you if at all possible. She had refused point blank to call him Harry, and so he retaliated in kind by always referring to her as Miss Graves, as opposed to the Ms that she preferred. By now, the two were used to each other, and each treated the other with strict cold professionalism.

"What is it, Miss Graves?" Harry asked, urgency apparent in every part of his body. The witch just rolled her eyes, her stance making it obvious that she didn't personally consider whatever she was here for to be as important as Harry likely would.

"Well, Mr Potter, I shouldn't panic if I were you, but it's from Auror D'Arcane- you remember him? Well, he's at your house now with your wife, and they reckon they've got Draco Malfoy locked in the cellar." Her harsh Yorkshire accent clipped the words short, but her obvious boredom drew them out into more of a West Country sound. Harry had no sympathy whatsoever; if she didn't like the job then she shouldn't have taken it- she was really overqualified anyway.

"Draco Malfoy is dead." Harry pointed out.

"Yes." The witch agreed. "I did tell them that, but you see-"  
Harry had had enough. He'd been working for far too long today, his best friend had been found to be an amnesiac of sorts, and now he had a growing feeling that Miss Graves was about to insult his wife. If she had any sense, she'd stop herself before she got to that point, but tired as he was, Harry didn't want to take the risk. "Get out of the fire." He growled tersely. "I'm going home."

The witch's face vanished with an affronted huff, and Harry turned to Hermione, who had been watching the exchange unnoticed. Her face was drawn; she didn't like Penelope any more than Harry did. The woman terrorised the entirety of the Ministry and expected to be thanked for it. "Will you be OK?" he asked more gently. His friend smiled.

"Harry, I'm missing a few months of memories, not a few years. I'll be fine! Go. Say hello to Ginny for me."

The black haired man grinned and vanished into the green flames of the fire.

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 **AN: A little bit of a filler chapter... Well, a lot of a filler chapter. Loving all the positive comments... Still waiting with anticipation for some negative ones.**  
 **Reviews are always nice. Suggestions are always welcome, whether technical or plot-related.**


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